


A Pyrrhic Victory

by LotusFlair



Series: Magnus Season 5 Codas [4]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coda, Discussions of death, Fire and burns, Gen, M/M, Merits of Revenge, Post-Episode: MAG 169 Fire Escape, Revenge, discussions of injury, smoke inhalation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:00:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24414742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LotusFlair/pseuds/LotusFlair
Summary: When it's all burning down around you, how do you find the way out?Outside of the Desolation's domain, Jon and Martin take a moment to breathe and regroup. The empty, ashen flavor of revenge is bitter on their tongues and in their hearts.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Magnus Season 5 Codas [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1763854
Comments: 12
Kudos: 92





	A Pyrrhic Victory

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I covered as much as I wanted, but there was so much to ruminate on after MAG 169. Hopefully this makes sense or stays true to these soft boys. God knows how it'll be addressed in the show, but damn Jonny, this one hurt a lot. Forgot to breathe a few times while listening to the episode again.
> 
> Anywho, you can find me @darling_sammy on Twitter and check out my website, POP Archives, @ www.pop-archives.com

His hand was aching. The skin felt stretched and tight. There was pain spiking across the scar.

The memory of Jude burning his hand invaded his mind. He could smell his bubbling flesh and the awful odor of burning hair.

He could hear Jude laughing as he screamed.

His hand was shaking and he couldn't make it stop.

She'd deserved it...he smited her because she deserved it. She was cruel and uncaring and malicious and she deserved to be punished.

So why did he feel so hollow?

"Jon?" Martin coughed, his voice rough from inhaling smoke.

He'd led them out of the Desolation's domain. They'd stopped to regroup at a safe distance from the tortuous heat of the building, but there was no escaping the sounds of the people screaming from within. Jude was gone but the fear and pain didn't miss a beat. Martin sat down without preamble, pulling one of the few water bottles out of his bag and drinking greedily. Jon stood, silently witnessing the unstoppable engine of fear. He'd almost forgotten Martin was there, too caught up in the agony and suffering of others that the Eye craved to observe.

"Jon...your hand," Martin said.

"It - it wasn't supposed to feel like this," Jon said, his own voice hoarse from their trek through the fire. "Was it?"

"Jon?"

"I have...all this power. And she - she wasn't even afraid of me. Not really. Not until the last moment," Jon continued. He clenched his fists, biting back against the pain he felt in his still shaking hand. "She burnt me because she could, because she wanted to, and now I'm here and she's not and I feel - I feel..."

"What do you feel, Jon?" Martin asked. His voice was so gentle, which did nothing to calm the maelstrom in his mind.

"Angry! E-empty - hollow!" Jon shouted. Martin flinched away, the combination of volume and venom in Jon's voice enough to stagger him as he tried to stand. He looked to Martin, his eyes sunken with guilt and a pressing need for answers. "Why - why did I...? You didn't want to...and I did it anyway! I thought - I thought..."

"What, Jon? What did you think?" Martin asked. He was finally standing, legs a bit wobbly from adrenaline. He reached out a hand, offering Jon a means and a place to feel grounded. Jon moved away. He turned back to face the growing cloud of smoke in the distance. Martin could practically see the fire reflected in his eyes.

"I chose...Martin, I...What was the point?" Jon asked.

"I..."

"I changed nothing. Those people are still trapped, still victims of a world I created," Jon said. He started to chuckle bitterly. "But at least I got my revenge."

"It's okay, Jon--"

"It's not okay! None of this is okay!"

"I know that, alright!" Martin shouted back. "I was just in a burning building watching you - watching you... **stare** her out of existence. I was in a forest of corpse roots and - and a disturbed carousel - and evil mud - and a village filled with-with sickness - and a trench full of soldiers and guns, Jon! I've been here the whole time. Same as you."

"Not the same as me," Jon said, his voice as tight and strained as the muscles in his aching, shaking hand.

There was a long moment of silence before Jon heard Martin quietly respond, "No, not the same as you."

Jon turned again to face Martin, the sullen tone of his voice enough to set Jon's nerves on edge. "Martin..."

"I thought..." Martin said, his hands wringing nervously. "They're all monsters, Jon. They've all done horrible things. They deserved it, right?"

"Right..."

"I didn't - didn't want to be there. In the building...but it was important to you. You wanted it. You wanted her to suffer the way - the way she made you suffer," Martin said. Jon could see him trying to work through the events, logic his way to a conclusion that didn't end tragically. Basira would've been proud of the effort. "I figured she'd go down easy, ya know? The Sasha thing was gone so quickly. I thought maybe Oliver would as well, but...but you didn't bother with him. You brought us straight to her and now..."

"Now?"

"Now I'm not so sure about this," Martin said. He moved back to their bags, sitting with a huff and a small cloud of dust rising into the air. "What's the point, Jon? They die and none of those people get a reprieve! And we pass through without a scratch."

"Isn't that supposed to be my line?" Jon asked. He moved closer, kneeling in front of Martin. He kept his shaking hand close to his chest, protective of it even if he wasn't totally conscious of his movements.

"This was my idea," Martin said. "Revenge. Getting our murder on. It sounded...so much more heroic in my head, but--"

"Nothing about what happens here is heroic," Jon finished. Martin nodded. "I'm sorry. We should've gone another way. I shouldn't have put my petty revenge over your safety or - or your peace of mind."

"Peace of mind?" Martin scoffed.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." His eyes flicked down from Jon's face to his hand again. "Jon, give me your hand."

"No," Jon said, emphatically.

"Jon," Martin said, insistently.

"I don't want you to have to deal with - with this," Jon said.

"What? Why?"

"Burns...scars..." Jon whispered. "You said they were ugly. Unpleasant. I don't want to put your through--"

"Jon. Give me your hand," Martin said. There was no questioning Martin when his voice took on that tone. As gentle as he could be, Martin carried a ferocity that rarely exposed itself unless absolutely necessary. It was almost comical that he was using it to force Jon into reaching out for care and support. But reach out Jon did, letting the shaking appendage fall into the lovingly calloused hands of his partner.

The shaking hadn't lessened or increased, neither had the pain. Jon tried not to flinch when Martin gently began to massage the aching muscles. He didn't want Martin to think he was causing him any pain, but it was hard not to respond as it traveled through his frayed nerve endings. He could feel Martin's eyes on him, gauging his reaction. Jon felt the pressure building. It took everything to keep the tears at bay.

"It - it won't s-stop sh-shaking," Jon said. The words came out as a wet, miserable laugh as shaky as his hand. "Even when she's gone...she's still causing me pain."

"I'm sorry, love," Martin said.

"She's the only one," Jon said, cryptically.

"The only one?"

"Other than Magnus," Jon clarified, though he quickly realized he hadn't made it as clear as he thought. "Of the avatars controlling their domains. Jude was the only one alive that I...wanted to kill. Mike Crew, Jane Prentiss, Nikola Orsinov, Peter Lukas, Manuela Dominguez...all dead or gone before the Change. They'd all hurt me, but Jude...it was the worst of the scars."

"Jon, you died," Martin said, pointedly as he continued the massage.

"Yes, but I don't remember dying," Jon said. He nodded to the puckered hand. "I remember that. I remember every agonizing second. I used to - I'd dream about it sometimes. Relive it before I understood what it meant to dream as the Archivist."

He stopped, choking on his tears that insisted on falling down his cheeks. His eyes stung with water and soot. Martin stopped the massage briefly to cradle his face and wipe the tears away.

"It's alright, Jon," he said. "You don't have to explain."

Jon gripped Martin's arms, finding strength even in his shaking hand to latch on. "I hated her, Martin. I hated her so much. I just - I never thought I'd get the chance for revenge. It never seemed like something that would be an option."

"Until now," Martin said.

Jon nodded. "Until now."

Martin kissed Jon gently before wiping the rest of the tears away, settling back into massaging his hand. Jon continued to watch, hoping for some relief from the pain to come soon. But there was still an emptiness in his stomach; a pit of anxiety and anger that churned with ice and fire. Martin appeared focused on his task, but Jon could see the unfettered thoughts crossing his face.

"I'm sorry I chose to go in," Jon whispered. "I'm - I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," Martin said. Jon replied with a confused look. "None of this is easy, Jon. We both understand that, but...I think I've been too naive about this...doesn't seem right to call it a quest anymore."

"No, probably not," Jon agreed. "But that doesn't mean that I don't understand the intention. I know why you--"

"Encouraged you to murder?"

That got a small laugh. "Tried to channel a more active participation on my part in our present situation."

"Wow. That's some proper managerial jargon," Martin commented.

"I thought you'd appreciate it," Jon said. A comfortable silence followed as Martin continued his gentle ministrations. The pain was finally beginning to subside, the shaking not as much, when Martin got a strange look on his face.

"Jared Hopworth," Martin said.

"Pardon?"

"He's still out there, right? Still has one of your ribs?" Martin asked.

The Knowledge came to Jon quickly. "Y-yes. In the Flesh domain."

"Lovely," Martin said with a disgusted grimace. "Are you going to kill him?"

"I - uh - I...don't know?" Jon responded. He checked Martin reaction.

"He did attack the archives," Martin pointed out.

"And hurt a lot of people, yes, but...seeking him out doesn't...I'd rather focus on getting to Magnus, if that's alright?" Jon said.

"What about if we run into anyone who means to kill us?" Martin asked.

"Then I kill them," Jon stated. There was a moment of surety in his eyes that passed quickly. "I just - I don't plan on making any deliberate routes that would put us in their way. Not anymore. I don't want to be like--"

"You're not like her, Jon," Martin said.

"I was in there," Jon said. "No better than any of the other torturers given power."

"Well, we're not in there anymore," Martin said.

"Doesn't mean it goes away," Jon added.

"Doesn't mean you have to let it define you, either," Martin countered. "Besides, you've got me! Who better than a valet to keep you centered as you traverse the layers of Hell?"

Jon smiled. "I suppose that's one way to look at it."

Martin accepted his vague agreement, nodding as he kneaded Jon's palm. Some time passed before his hand finally felt as normal as it could, though there was still a light tremor. It was the best that could be done, but it made Jon's heart swell to see Martin's disappointment in his failure to heal the hand through force of will alone. Another time, maybe. Martin made a point of keeping hold of the scarred hand even as they readied themselves to resume the journey.

"The things I said before...about burns," Martin began. "I didn't mean you, Jon. I was just..."

"Afraid," Jon finished. Martin nodded, though Jon suspected there was more than he was letting on. It would be easy enough to Know, but he'd made a promise not to. When Martin wanted to tell him, then he'd listen. He gave Martin a supportive squeeze and felt it returned as they pressed on towards the Panopticon.

The smell of smoke and ash lingered long after they were gone.


End file.
